Not A Baby
by JusttMee123
Summary: Their little boy isn't really a baby anymore.
1. Chapter 1

He knows something's up when he manages to sneak up on Natasha.

In all the time he's known her, she's been the one to sneak up on people. It's part of her job, to catch their targets off guard. Plus it entertains them all to no end when Tony screams like a girl. No one has ever managed to catch her by surprise, not even Clint, and Lord knows he's tried more times than the rest of them put together. He likes to think of it as her superpower. He's a super soldier, Stark's got the suit, everyone's got their own thing; hers just happens to be eyes in the back of her head.

So when she actually jumps at the sound of his voice, it startles him. After all, it wasn't like he was trying to sneak up on her on purpose. He wasn't even trying to be quiet.

She presses a hand to her chest. "Steve. I didn't realize you were there."

"I noticed," he quips as he wraps his arms around her and rests his chin on top of her head. "Something wrong?"

"No. Nothing. I'm fine," she answers far too quickly and innocently. He smiles, knowing she won't see it.

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm just out of practice. And wipe that smirk off your face."

"Tell me what you're thinking about?" She shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the command thinly veiled as a request. She's about to snark back when he interrupts her. "Don't even think about saying 'nothing'. You know I know you better than that."

Again she has to smile. "Who said I was going to say nothing?" He arches an eyebrow. She rolls her eyes. "Do you know what your son did this morning?"

"Oh, suddenly he's _my _son?" he laughs. "What did he do now? Spit cereal milk at Tony again? Glue Barton's arrows together? Please don't tell me you found him climbing around in the vents."

"He got dressed for school all by himself," she says, tweaking her mouth to one side and pressing her lips together. "He put his shirt on backwards and his pants were inside out, but he did it all on his own.

"Nat-"

"And then when we got to school he wouldn't let me kiss him or hold his hand. He said he was too old to do that anymore and that big boys didn't need to hold their mommy's hand walking into school."

"We knew this day would come eventually."

"It doesn't make it any easier," she grumbles. "He's not my little baby anymore. Remember how little he used to be? And how he'd scream as soon as we put him down?"

"He'll always be our baby, Tash." He squeezer her a little tighter. "He just won't need us to do everything for him anymore."

"But what if I like doing everything for him?" Steve laughs and she's tempted to jab him in the collarbone.

"You say that now, but just wait until he's sixteen and going through his rebellious phase. I'm pretty sure you're not going to want to brush his teeth for him or give him baths then."

"Yes I will," she insists, stubborn to the last. He laughs again and kisses her forehead.

"We both know you won't. And even if you do still want to, James would never stand for it."

"How come you're so okay with this?" she demands as she pokes him in the chest. He smiles that dazzling smile, grinning like he knows something she doesn't, and she rolls her eyes at him.

"He's only six years old," he says. "He may not need you to dress him or tie his shoes, but he's still a little boy. He still needs us to check for monitors under his bed and kiss his boo boos all better. He still needs his mom, don't let him fool you."

And later that day when James gets home babbling about his day and insisting she swing him up into her arms, Steve flashes her his famous I-Told-You-So look and she childishly sticks her tongue out.

* * *

_Hey guys! I'm thinking of making this like a series of one shots about James growing up. Tell me what you think I should do and feel free to send requests of __one shots you want to see! It can be any age and any situation, and I will do my best._


	2. Chapter 2

_For MESPX13._

_I've changed the rating to T for language, so if you don't mind a few minor swears, read on!_

* * *

Her fingers flit over the taut skin of her rounded belly, a wide smile spreading across her lips. A hand jabs her from the inside and she pokes at it playfully. The hand retracts and seconds later a foot kicks her on the other side. She grabs at the foot too and waits for the baby's next movement, but he seems to just settle.

A son. She can hardly believe it.

She's so unbelievably scared. She remembers the panic that had filled her when she and Steve first found out. She always believed that she wasn't cut out to be a mother, between what she did for a living and her prickly personality in general. She knows now that she was wrong, but she's still so scared. Her baby's every kick and every movement rouses something that feels like maternal instinct inside her, and she's amazed that she can love someone who hasn't even been born yet this much. She knows with absolute certainty that she would die for her son without thinking twice. And that's what scares her.

Because what if that happens? What if she's killed, taken away from her child too soon and leave him to grow up without her? What if she misses his first words, first steps, first day of school, first dance, graduation, everything?

The baby stretches his long limbs as if to reassure her that everything will be fine. She places a hand on her belly as he turns, trying to find a comfortable position.

"I can't wait to meet you," she says out loud. According to her doctor, her baby can hear her voice and recognize it as his mother's. "I've been waiting my whole life for you."

A larger hand covers her where it's resting on her stomach, and she looks up into the deep blue eyes of her husband. "Only a few more weeks," he murmurs. She steals a kiss from him and rests her forehead against his.

"I'm so nervous," she admits. "I can't believe this is really happening." She kisses him again and accepts his embrace, allowing herself to just relax against him for a few moments.

* * *

She's disoriented and her body is aching and all she wants to do is close her eyes and fall asleep, but Steve's arm is behind her back helping to prop her up so sleeping isn't a possibility. He smiles down at her with tears in his eyes and then they place the screaming infant on her chest and the rest of the world just sort of fades out.

She's aware of the doctors cleaning him as he struggles on her chest and Steve is openly crying as he shifts closer to her, but all she can focus on is her perfect little son. By some miracle her arms come up to cradle him even though the feel like their made of jelly. He son's cries turn to small whimpers and he opens his eyes and looks at her and she feels as if she's been struck by lightning.

She just _knows _in that instant that she was born to be this little boy's mom.

"He's beautiful," Steve said through his tears. His hand cups their son's tiny head and he starts kissing every inch of her that he can reach. She melts into his embrace and, to her embarrassment, begins to cry as well. Somehow the doctors manage to swaddle him without removing him from her arms and a little blue cap is tugged over his head. She has the urge to laugh because James is just staring at her the entire time with the strangest expression and it's so damn funny. She whispers nonsense to her son even as she feels her eyelids droop, and despite her exhaustion Steve is physically unable to remove their son from her arms until she's already asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"Uncle Clint!" The small redheaded boy flew into his legs with the force of a small steam engine and nearly knocked him off his feet. The boy immediately started chattering away excitedly, jumping up and down and grabbing at his hands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he laughed. "Slow down there little man! Where's everyone else?" James proceeded to sprint away, informing people at the top of his lungs that he was back. Seconds later he came back, panting breathlessly, and tried to climb up his back. Clint gave him a boost, made sure he was settled, then took of running around the common area and kitchen. His five-year-old nephew hooted and cheered from her perch atop his shoulders.

"You're so heavy now, kid. What, did you grow a foot since I've been gone?" He settled the boy on a stool at the counter then sat down next to him.

"You've only been gone for a week," he giggled. "Don't be silly."

"Oh, of course. How silly of me."

Steve appeared then, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and smiled warmly at the pair. "Morning, you two. Quite the wake up, huh James?"

"Uncle Clint is back, Daddy!"

"Yes, I can see. Was your business trip okay?" Steve gave him a pointed look. Everyone agreed that James was too young to know of their superhero identities just yet. They'd tell him when he was a little bit older, but for now they all thought it best that he be kept in the dark.

"Everything went smoothly. A few minor incidents, but it was all worked out in the end." Steve nodded.

"Sounds good. James, why don't you go get ready for school?" The boy visibly deflated and grabbed his uncle's hand again.

"But Daaaaaaad!" he whined. "Uncle Clint _just _got back!"

"And he'll still be here after school."

"But we have to play!"

"we can play after school," Clint reassured the boy. "I have an extra special present for you, but you have to go to school first."

"Hear that?" Steve hoisted James out of his seat, groaning dramatically, and tucked him under his arm like a football. The child screamed with laughter, effectively waking up anyone who hadn't already been away before, as his father carried him down the hallway.

* * *

"Okay, kid, that's great, just keep you elbow a little bit straighter." He wished he had a camera. Oh sure, Steve would have his head and Natasha would probably skin him alive, but his nephew was actually holding a bow and arrow and he wanted to capture this moment.

"Like this?" James asked.

"No, don't lock your elbow. You'll hurt yourself like that."

"What does locking your elbow mean?" The boy looked up at him with a look of confusion and almost released the arrow. The tip was made of foam so he couldn't do any real damage, but he imagined that if hit from a distance it would still hurt a bit.

"It's when your arm is straightened all the way. It's really bad to do that when you're holding a bow because you can seriously hurt your arm like that."

"Like how?"

"The force of the bow snapping back into shape when you release the arrow can injure you," he explained, "or the bowstring can actually get under your arm guard."

"Ohhh."

"But that's not going to happen," he assured his nephew, "because I'm going to teach you the right way." The two grinned at each other and the Cling knelt next to James. "Alright, so to aim, try to line up your-"

He was cut off as James's fingers released the arrow and sent it flying down the hall. There was a muffled impact and then the sound of many glass things shattering.

"Run."

"BARTON!"

"Where?" James asked in a panic.

"Get to the dining room! We can hide in the vents!"

* * *

_Oh Clint. What shall we do with you?_

_Fun fact. That whole bowstring-under-your-armguard thing actually happened to me when I was 13. It was quite painful, and, yes, it did leave a scar._


	4. Chapter 4

There was nothing in the world Tony Stark hated more than thunderstorms.

Not because _he_ was afraid of them but because James was, and every time one happened the kid would go into bat shit insane mode. Last time, they'd all had to camp out in the living room on the common floor for the night because James hadn't felt safe until he was surrounded by his parents and all his aunts and uncles. By the time they all managed to get back to sleep, using each other's legs and arms and stomachs as pillows, it had been well past three in the morning. The Avengers were supposed to meet Fury in the conference room on the 12th floor at 8:00 but staged an uprising by collectively ignoring their alarms, and that's how the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. found them when he went looking for his team.

He supposes really shouldn't be surprised that the first time he's left alone with James, there's a massive thunderstorm coming their way. He blames karma; he did, after all, eat the rest of Thor's pop tarts and blame Hill who conveniently wasn't around to defend herself.

And besides, it's not like the team left him alone on purpose. Steve, Clint and Bruce had been away for a few days on a mission when another incident came up and Fury took Natasha and Thor because he said they were best suited for it. He thinks maybe he should be insulted, but then again it _is_ his turn to sit out a mission for James's sake. There was one time when James was a baby where all the Avengers were needed and they came back to find that Coulson had dressed the kid up as Captain America, complete with a tiny cloth shield and a beanie made to look like Cap's helmet. Pictures had been taken, but Natasha had hidden the outfit as soon as Coulson was out the door.

Tonight he decides to pull out all the stops. He gives the kid warm milk, reads him two bedtime stories, carries him around the floor as he bounces him lightly, he even sings a lullaby or two. (Of course JARVIS has been ordered to stop recording.)

He manages to get James to sleep before the storm hits and he's actually feeling quite accomplished about it as he lays his three year old nephew down in his bed. With any luck he'll sleep right through the storm and never know the difference. He settles himself in his makeshift bed on Steve and Natasha's couch and turns the TV on, being sure to keep the volume low.

But he's bored already. Normally this is the time that he'd go down to his workshop and tinker with his suits, but he's 99% sure Natasha would string him up by his pinkies if he did that and left James alone up here. Steve would probably just put him in a chokehold until he begged for mercy and promised not to do it again and quite honestly he'd take the chokehold over whatever sadistic revenge the spy could come up with.

There's a flash of light from outside and sends later a rumble of thunder follows. Tony holds his breath and dares to hope, but James's door flies open and slams against the wall as the boy sprints for his parents' room down the hall. He starts to get up, expecting James to come running back down the hall to the living room. He's caught off guard when James starts screaming like he's being tortured and Tony makes it down the hall in record time. The child is on the bed, the pillows already strewn on the floor and the blankets pulled aside.

"Mommy?! Daddy?!" he wails. When he spots his uncle standing in the doorway he leaps over to him and wraps himself around Tony's leg.

Tony bends down and grips James by the shoulders. "Hey, hey, hey," he tries to soothe the boy. "You're okay, you're safe."

"Where's mommy and daddy?" The three-year-old sobs.

"They're away right now. Remember Daddy left a few days ago and Mommy left earlier today? Your Dad's coming back tomorrow though, remember?"

"But I need them!" he howls. There's a crash from outside, much closer and much louder this time, so close the windows rattle. James screams again and practically climbs up Tony's front as the lights in the hall go out.

"Uncle Tony!" he cries and Tony can feel his tears wetting his shirt.

"No, don't cry, Squirt." He awkwardly pats James on the back, cursing Fury in his mind. He has no idea how to deal with this. Every other time a storm has hit, there's been at least one other person here with him to look after the kid. What the hell does he know about taking care of a tiny human?

An idea comes to him. "Hey. You want to do something fun?"

"Like what?" James whimpers without removing his face from the safe place that is his uncle's shirt front.

"Come on, I'll show you." He takes James by the hand and leads him out to the living room with a quick pit stop to grab James's security blanket and Snoopy, the green stuffed dog James has had since birth. Tony wastes no time in rearranging the room, tugging chairs over and draping blankets over them. It doesn't take long for James to realize what they're doing, and the kid slowly becomes more animated.

They make a mattress of couch cushions and pillows and crawl inside their blanket fort. Tony makes shadow puppets using the light from his arc reactor and tells James "made up" stories about the Avengers' adventures until the storm stops and they both fall asleep curled against each other.


	5. Chapter 5

_Happy Fourth of July guys!_

_For MysticFantasy._

* * *

Steve Rogers was not expecting the fire alarm to be the first thing he heard when he woke up.

He's no idiot, he knows exactly what day it is, which means Tony's probably either setting off fireworks in the tower or he bought a giant cake and attempted to light 100 candles on the damn thing. Either way he doesn't want to find out, so he simply ignores it and tries to go back to sleep. But after a few minutes the alarm is still going off and Natasha has resorted to pressing his pillow over her exposed ear, and there's really no way he's going to get back to sleep now so he drags himself out of bed and down three floors to the common kitchen.

Sure enough, the inventor is standing there with what appears to be a raging inferno on the counter. Tony is wrestling with the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall and he swears that Tony is one of the smartest guys he knows, but sometimes he can be such an idiot that it astounds him.

"Tony, what the hell are you doing?" He shouts over the bleating of the fire alarm that is _still _going off.

"Nothing! It's nothing! Go back to sleep!"

"Yeah, that's not happening." He unhooks the fire extinguisher and pulls the pin out. Aiming the nozzle at the fire he squeezes the handle and immediately the flames are choked out. It's only then that he sees that the cake was on his shield, and he shoots a withering glare at Tony who simply smiles and shrugs. The elevator dings and the other Avengers appear as the fire alarm finally goes silent, including Natasha holding a very tired and very grumpy looking James. He clings to his mother and rests his head against he shoulder, looking very much as if he wants to go back to sleep and Steve feels the exact same way.

His son's eyes light up when he sees his dad though, and he leans away from Natasha and stretches toward him. "Happy Birthday, Steve," she murmurs as she hands their son over to him. "James, can you say 'Happy Birthday Daddy?'"

"Dadadadadada," James babbles and he promptly sticks his fingers inside his father's mouth.

"Close enough, kiddo," Steve smiles. The baby grabs a fistful of Steve's hair and tugs, laughing when he grimaces.

"See, this is why I don't want kids," Tony says from behind him. "Look at that evil little smile on the kid's face! He's sadistic."

"He's a baby," Bruce says flatly. He can practically hear Tony's eyes rolling.

"What were you even doing, Tony?" Clint says, rifling through the cabinets in search of the coffee. "Not exactly the best wake up in the world."

"Trying to surprise the good captain here," Tony grins, gripping Steve's shoulder and earning a glare from him. "I guess it worked. Happy Birthday Steve!"

"Well, I'm going back to bed," Bruce announces. He heads back toward the elevator and Clint gives up his search and follows. Steve decides that while going back to sleep is impossible he'd really rather not look at his shield any longer than he has to. He fully intend to make Tony clean it to his standards later.

He and Natasha head back up to their floor with James and have a much quieter breakfast there. James is deposited in his booster seat with a few cheerios while the two of them get started on cooking their own breakfast. Soon their home is filled with the smell of bacon, eggs, and waffles and they steal kisses as they cook. Steve often glances at Natasha when he thinks she's not looking, bringing a smile to her face, but he really can't help it.

He's been dreaming of this, of having a wife and a family, for as long as he can remember. And now he finally has it. He realizes that this is his first birthday as a father, and then he kind of _has _to scoop James up out of his chair and toss him in the air a few times.

"Steve, be careful with him," his wife stresses as she looks on nervously.

"I know," he grins. "He's fine, see? He likes it." Still, not wanting to fry Natasha's nerves further, he places his son on the ground and watches him roll around. He can't wait for James to start talking and walking, though he's certain that once he is he'll be wishing for the days when his son was less mobile and thus easier to catch. He feels Natasha's arms wrap around his middle and rest her cheek against his back.

"Thank you," he whispers as he turns around in her embrace and kisses the side of her head.

"For what?"

"For this. Everything. For giving me a family." He kisses her hungrily. "I couldn't ask for a better present."

"Oh yeah?" Natasha smirks as she raises an eyebrow. "What about your son sleeping tonight? You know the fireworks are going to keep him up. He'll probably think it's thunder and we all know how that ends."

"Us on the couch with a baby sprawled all across our bed, I know." A small crash sounds and they look over to James who's laughing at the stacks of movies he's managed to topple over. "But you know what? I don't mind that. Because it means that we have a son in the first place and because it means I have you next to me, and I can't think of anything I would ever want more than that."

* * *

_Ehh not too happy with this one._


	6. Chapter 6

"What happens if I mix this with this?" James asks, holding up two containers.

"I'm… not entirely sure, to be honest."

"But Uncle Bruce, you know _everything_!" The boy looks at him with a wide grin. "Will it explode?!"

The wild excitement in his eyes should be concerning, he knows, but considering the kid is holding up milk and lemon juice that were definitely _not _in any danger of exploding, he figures they can table that discussion for a later time.

"I didn't say I know everything," he corrects with a small smile. "And I'm pretty sure those won't explode."

"But _could _they?" The small boy looks at the two liquids inquisitively. "Uncle Tony said something about infinite possibilities, and said that by that logic eventually the laundry should fold itself in the dryer, and one day Aunt Pepper should make out with Maria and Uncle Clint should spend a day without perching in high places."

"James, your Uncle Tony is a moron."

"Who's Maria? And what does make out mean?"

Bruce laughed and shook his head. "You know, that is a really good question for your mom and dad."

"Okay." There was a brief pause. "Hey Uncle Bruce, how come glue doesn't stick to its bottle?"

He reaches over the counter and ruffles James's hair. "Do you ever get tired of asking questions?" James grins in response and shake his head.

"I just want to know everything you know."

He's flattered. He really is. He knows James is a very curious young boy, and the fact that he came to him with almost all his questions warmed his heart.

When James had been born, he'd actually been scared. He was terrified of hurting him, even with the other guy safely inside. What if he dropped him? What if he held him the wrong way? This wasn't even his son and he was terrified of screwing it all up. What if, somewhere down the road, James saw him as the other guy? What if he got angry about something while James was around and tore a Hulk-sized hole through the side of the tower? The kid would be horrified, seeing his uncle as a monster. Plus it would be kind of difficult to explain to the kid what had happened. He never wanted James to see him like that, so for the first few years Bruce has remained distant.

When James had started school things changed a little bit. They didn't have to look after him 24/7 so things started settling back into a routine. He'd thought it would be a little bit easier. James would have his homework to keep him busy after school, and he'd still see him around the tower obviously. There would just be a few more excuses to stay away. But then he overheard Tony talking to James, and the boy asked him for help with his science project.

"Well, that's more of your Uncle Bruce's area of expertise," Tony had told him. "I'm more of a mechanic, so when your fist motorcycle breaks down, I'm you guy."

"But I can't ask Uncle Bruce," James whined, "so I need your help."

"Well why can't you ask him? He doesn't bite."

"He doesn't like me," James mumbled. "He never wants to spend time with me and he stays away." Guilt flooded through him. He didn't want to hurt James, but he never meant to make his own nephew think he didn't like him.

He heard Tony sigh. "Uncle Bruce definitely does not hate you, James. It's complicated. I think he's afraid."

"He's afraid of me?"

"Not _of_ you. I think he's afraid he'll hurt you. Like I said, it's complicated and I promise that when you're older, you'll understand."

The next morning he had the rare opportunity to sleep in until 9, but when he arrived to the common kitchen that all the Avengers shared James was sitting there with the rest of the team scattered around the counters and lounging on the couches nearby.

"Snow day," Natasha said when she saw Bruce start to panic. "All the schools in the area are closed due to heavy snow." He saw Tony discreetly nudge James and the kid slowly looked up at him.

"Hey Uncle Bruce?" His voice was a lot quieter than the one he usually heard James use, and his back was hunched and his shoulders curved in as if he was trying to make himself appear smaller. "I was wondering if you could help me with something."

"Well, what do you need help with?" He asked, trying to keep his voice casual and not let James know that he'd overheard his conversation with Tony.

"There's this science fair at my school and my teacher said that I should do something for it. I was wondering if you could help me come up with some ideas." James paused briefly. "But, I mean, it's okay if you don't want to. If you're busy I understand and-"

"I'd love to help."

The pair had spent the snow day in the lab and had eventually some up with the idea of super bouncy balls. It took them a week to perfect their little project and once they were satisfied with it, they took all the failures and rejected ones and pelted them at Tony when he wasn't expecting it.

"Whatcha makin'?" James's voice draws him back out of his memory. He smiles at his nephew as the boy rises up on his tiptoes to try to see into the pot.

"I'm making homemade chicken soup. We can have it for dinner and put the leftovers in the freezer. That way if you want some another day we have it." James nods and bounces in place for a few seconds.

"What would happen if I put chicken soup in my water gun?"

"A carrot would clog it," he replies without missing a beat.

"But what if-"

He puts down the wooden spoon he had been using to stir the soup and starts tickling James. "I think we should stop plotting things that will get us murdered by your mother and father. How about that?"

"But that's no fun!" James exclaims as he tries to squirm away. The giggling child manages to escape his uncle's grasp and leaps out of his range. He grins at Bruce as if daring him to chase him.

"Go wash your hands, kid. Dinner will be done soon." He goes back to stirring the soup, unsurprised when two small hands tug at his shirt sleeve.

"You're gonna help me with my science fair project later, right?"

"Oh, no he's not," Natasha says, making them both jump. "Don't think I've forgotten about last year's mishap. If I have to get called down to the school again this year…." She trails off, leaving her threat open ended.

"But mom-"

"It was a complete accident-"

"…wasn't even really our fault-"

"We didn't know it would explode-"

"Honest, mom."

Natasha simply arches an eyebrow that sends James scampering to the bathroom to wash his hands and Bruce back to stirring the suddenly fascinating soup. They both know Bruce will help James with whatever he wants, because as much as Bruce likes not having broken bones, he loves spending time with James more.


End file.
